July 20, 2000
More TGP writer's block...::grrrrr::
I don't know...this is my first hetero type fic...Hope I don't squick
anyone out...
I know the weirdsisters (me and ariana) don't usually beg for feedback...but this time I'm begging. I've never been more confused about something that I've written...it's probably stupid. Eh. ^^;
Help...
BCW
Song by Ani DiFranco
[tonight you stooped to my level]
It's over.
I can still feel your mouth on mine, pressing light kisses there, little white lies. You were so passionate, so different from your normal shell of reserve. Is this how it is, then? The joke's on Relena, folks, the girl that followed Heero Yuy around and finally got him.
I got you. Or is it more, you got me?
[I am your mangy little whore
and now you're trying to find your underwear
and then your socks and then the door]
"Don't go," I say futilely, and it doesn't even matter. You never listened to me before, even as you were falling without releasing your parachute. You heard *him*. I should hate Duo, but I can't, as much as you couldn't hate him the first time you met him.
You simply look at me, the disgust there evident now. Would you have done it, I wonder, if not for the alcohol? I pretended that the liquor loosened your tongue, loosened your inhibitions. Instead, it got you completely smashed. I was a warm, willing body.
With my long, golden brown hair, did you think I was him? Did you think it was his mouth that you were kissing?
You shrug off your dark thoughts, probably mirroring my own, and tug on your spandex, those tight biker shorts that leave little to the imagination, then your tanktop, hiding those two perfect brown nipples, still erect with the cold.
Heero, you turn and look at me for a moment, as if apologizing.
[and you're trying to find a reason
why you have to leave
but I know it's cause you think you're Adam
and you think I'm Eve]
"A mission?"
I find it hard to believe myself that I'm the one offering you a way out. And you, beautiful and hateful at the same time, jump too quickly at it, nodding resolutely. "A mission. I have to go." And I bow my head and tug the sheets up over my bare breasts, the same breasts you worshipped minutes earlier with the gentlest touches.
It was too good to be true.
"Will I see you again?"
[you rhapsodize about beauty
and my eyes glaze
everything I love is ugly
I mean really, you would be amazed]
"Maybe." Your eyes flicker towards the sheets, stealing a glance of the evidence of our passion, and I see the hurt and the confusion reflected in the blue depths. They hold no secrets for me now. "Relena..." And you say my name in that way, your husky voice bottoming out around the 'a'. I love the way you say my name. None of the cowed respect I get from my advisors, not a single trace of fear or envy. Just...you.
"I'm sorry..." You clear your throat and I have to smile in spite of myself. You look so lost, without your trusty braided life raft to keep you afloat.
[just do me a favor
it's the least that you can do
just don't treat me like I am
something that happened to you]
"Don't be. Admit it, we both enjoyed it. But it's time to move on." I feel my pride swelling; my voice never broke once. To you, beloved, I should seem the casual, unaffected lover. But you reach down and touch my cheeks, your warm hands now cold.
You flick the tiny tears away and I wait for the death threat. In a twisted way, it completes the night. From enemy to lover and back.
"Omae o korosu, Relena."
And I want to laugh, badly. Because it's too late for that.
[I am truly sorry about all this]
"Heero," I say. And I realize that you are not mine in the way you turn to look at me, slowly, as if not wanting to disappoint yourself when you see someone other than your elfin lover staring up at you.
So I guess it's 'he' now. He pauses and looks at me with those eyes, waiting for me to finish, to say anything. And I can only say his name again.
"Heero."
It drops like a dead weight.
[you put a tiny pin prick
in my big red balloon
and as I slowly start to exhale
that's when you leave the room]
"I know, now."
He doesn't ask what I know. Heero looks like the tension of the past night has slipped away suddenly with those three words, different from the ones I'd like him to hear. "It was never me, Heero." Those long arms reach out and enfold me in a warm embrace; I can feel the length of his body, long to push against him, to start it again. He's still a little bit drunk, I know, and I can make him lose it. The feeling of power is always intoxicating.
He's no fool, and he knows it, so he pulls away and walks out of my room without a backward glance.
[I did not design this game
I did not name the stakes
I just happen to like apples
and I am not afraid of snakes]
If he's the one who kissed me first, why do I feel like such a terrible sinner? Like I seduced an innocent child? It was his first time with a girl, I think, and that just shows how strange the war's made his life. Homosexuality is considered the deviation, yet for so many soldiers it is the norm. Sometimes I wonder what percentage of the population the world loses from war, not only from the deaths, but from the decrease of children born shortly after.
Suddenly I feel nauseated. Now Heero will have to go back to his lover, smelling of perfume and cosmetics and sex, and Duo will know. Like we all know.
[I am truly sorry about all this
I envy you your ignorance
I hear that it's bliss]
Oh Duo, I hope you're ready for what you see. I know that I never am. I expect to see some semblance of a person, of a mortal, and instead I see a youthful god, so innocent, so tainted. He is the bloodiest killer I have ever met, and I love him for that. I love him for being everything that he's not supposed to be.
I think that's why Duo's with him, and not me.
[so I let go the ratio
of things said to things heard]
Relena.
Omae o korosu.
Omae o korosu.
Relena. I'm sorry. I don't love you.
That's what he's been saying to me, I think. Trying to push me away before I get hurt. How considerate of him, but that's like buying a cupboard for an expensive vase and coming home to find it already broken by the large watch-dog.
[as I leave you to your garden
and the beauty you preferred]
The next time I see him, the war is over. A girl can hope, can't she? But then I see him, walking with that damned teddy bear in his hand, and I know he's going to leave it somewhere for me to find, a peace-keeping gesture, an olive branch.
I've already made my peace, Heero.
I wish both of them well.
[I wonder what of this will have meaning
for you when you've left it all behind]
It's his wedding day, and I'm invited. I look at the two grooms and want to smile, so I cry instead. They're both wearing white, as if to deliberately flout convention for all it's worth, and when they kiss, when Heero announces that someone must have been sampling the cake since he tastes like sugar, I wonder what Heero thought when he kissed me that night. I wonder what I tasted like.
When we get to the cake and we see that, indeed, a little piece has been lopped off the very bottom, the guests burst into applause, even as Duo blushes furiously.
[I guess I'll even wonder
if you meant it
at the time]
I slip out the back of the tent, not caring who sees me.
I don't want to see the way he hold Duo in his arms like something more precious than gold.
I don't want to see the way his eyes light up when that silly American holds out his hand, expecting a slow dance with his husband, and they mock-tango.
I don't want to see the truth, super-imposed over the lie of that one night. Let it remain sacred in my mind, the little bit of plastic Heero that I clutch to, even knowing that it was never really him.
Bianca
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